Seraphina

Hartman, Rachel. Seraphina. (2012) Random House: New York City, NY. 512 pages. 
Ages 12 and up. 

Rachel Hartman’s debut novel, and winner of YALSA’s William C. Morris prize, is an epic tale of music, forbidden love, royalty, religion, politics, secrets, murder, misfits and yes, dragons. Sixteen-year-old Seraphina is adjusting to her new life at court as the assistant to the royal composer and although her passion and talent for music make this a dream job, she must constantly guard her terrible secret - she is half-dragon. Dragons in this world have the ability to take human form but are considered cold, soulless beings that have been at war with the people of Goredd for centuries. A child between the two species would be considered an abomination. A tenuous treaty barely holds the peace and when the crown prince is found murdered in a suspiciously dragon-like manner, it appears it may crumble. Seraphina finds herself in the middle of this investigation as she begins to understand her mysterious new abilities and tries to conceal her dragon-ness from those around her. Hartman’s beautiful prose, rich descriptions, and full-fledged characters help elevate Seraphina from becoming just another fantasy book about dragons, and instead is one that readers will find themselves instantly pulled into by the intrigue, suspense and magic of this ambitious new YA favorite. 

This review has previously appeared on the 646-spring14 Wikispaces page

March Vol. 1

Lewis, John and Andrew Aydin; illus. by Nate Powell. March Vol. 1. New York : Top Shelf Productions, 2013. 128 pages, grade 6 and up.

TL;DR version can be found here: March Vol. 1 by John Lewis

I consider myself fairly educated in American History and feel like my high school American History courses went in depth into the 1960s and the Civil Rights Movement. How is it then that although John Lewis’ name sounded familiar, I honestly could not place it in context? The more I read about this time period, the more I am aware that I know the broad strokes but I am woefully lacking in specifics. I had a similar realization after reading No Crystal Stair and feeling like all I knew about Malcolm X was his name and he wore glasses. Thankfully, we appear to be experiencing a boom of great children’s literature about the Civil Rights Movement and the history of racism in this country that will help educate this generation about the people, not just the events.

March Vol. I, uses President Obama’s 2009 inauguration as a framing device for John Lewis to tell the story of his childhood and how he ended up involved with the Nashville sit-ins in 1960. His interest in becoming a priest and nonviolence begins in his family’s chicken coop, where a young Lewis (nicknamed Bob from his middle name) preaches to his hens and protests his parents against their doomed dinner table fates. An eye-opening trip up North to Buffalo, NY with an uncle, running away from working in the fields to go to school, hearing Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. on the radio and reading about the Brown v. Board of Education court case all are important influential steps on his way to becoming the famed activist politician he is known for today.

This is a powerful book and uses the graphic novel form well. Powell’s drawings are often loose, sketchy and filled with movement but they are tightened in places to highlight a dramatic scene or an important plot point. There are some more stylized panels to balance the intense realism and can be seen as a shorthand to give the reader some understanding of Lewis’ internal narrative. Powell illustrated another Civil Rights era book last year, The Silence of Our Friends, and I think his art has improved. These two books could be paired well together to give additional historical context (and an African-American perspective) to the more personal story told in Friends. March Vol. I has been very well received critically, receiving a Coretta Scott King Honor Award and placing in YALSA’s Top 10 Great Graphic Novels for Teens and Outstanding Books for the College Bound lists. Powell noted on his Goodreads page that March has replaced two other historical graphic novels, Persepolis and Maus. I think it deserves a place on that list, but why can’t it exist alongside other graphic novels, why can there only be one? Those two books are great for teens to understand foreign cultures and I think removing them from the list and replacing them with a US history book is an isolationist move. Regardless of that one list’s mistakes, March will soon become required reading in many middle and high school history classes and in my mind, the more visual literature that is incorporated, the better.  Although the writing can be a bit bland and formulaic - this could be a tone adjustment for younger readers and a consequence of the “Well, when I was a boy...” storytelling - the plot moves quickly and I am eagerly awaiting the next two volumes.

Highly recommended. Grades 6 and up. There are a few depictions of violence - Emmett Till’s body is shown but it is not too graphic - and some language.

The Silence of Our Friends

Long, Mark and Jim Demonakos; illus. by Nate Powell. The Silence of Our Friends. New York : First Second, 2012. 200 pages, ages 14 and up.

This has been a really strong year for Civil Rights literature for young people. In the non-fiction field there was We’ve Got a Job : The 1963 Children’s March, for fiction there was The Lions of Little Rock, and blurring the line between the two was the very unique and completely engaging "documentary novel" No Crystal Stair. And now to round this group out, the beautifully drawn and richly told, The Silence of Our Friends. Semi-autobiographical, the story is a glimpse of how two families, one black and one white, deal with the prejudice, racial tension and violence of 1968 Houston, TX. Told through the sympathetic eye of the author’s father, a local news reporter, the book never falls into the in hindsight trap of, oh yes white people helped too. I call it “The Help” syndrome and it has become all too common lately and you know what I’m talking about. It’s the stories of a struggling black character(s) who is looking for justice and equality but they just can’t do it on their own without the help of an angelic white lady/powerful white man. Could also easily be called “The Blind Side” phenomenon. It’s this weird reverse on the old “Magical Negro” trope (a subverted version strangely worked in Django Unchained but that’s a topic for a whole other blog) and its just gross. Happily, this book avoids that, even though it is mainly from the perspective of the white news reporter and the white author.

A personal and detailed account of the court case against five black college students wrongfully accused of the murder of a police officer during what began as a peaceful protest is at the heart of the book. Long’s father was present at the event, filmed it and was called to testify in the case. Alongside these monumental events its the little daily moments, like the author and his sister watching the Saturn V launch late at night, that round out the book as a whole. Long does a wonderful job creating historical context, especially the frustration of day-to-day racial hatred which is clearly depicted in a memorable scene at a convenience store and the KKK flier left rubber banded to the Long’s door. The title comes from a quote by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and the book ends with his death. The last scene is a march of mourning citizens, both white and black that slowly start rising up from the street. It is a beautiful closing image that honors King and all of the people who were lost in the struggle for equality. My one qualm is that I wish there was more source material at the end. There is a letter from the author but I had to seek out interviews and discussions about why this book can't be cataloged as a non-fiction memoir. This book is definitely for an older crowd though, more appropriate for late middle-school and high school. There is quite a bit of language -  not just the N word although it is frequent and used accurately, and depictions of alcoholism. A great resource for an American History class to get a personal look at the events of the late ‘60s.